Veljekset
by Fairytale Warrior
Summary: "He was scared, and he was alone and he was relieved that Greg was going home. He tried to tell himself that he was okay with staying behind." Alternative ending to Over the Garden Wall.


_Alternative ending to the popular mini-series: Over the Garden Wall_

_(I'm sorry, this isn't my best work. I am feeling pretty lazy today, but I hope it's still enjoyable. :) -FT)_

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><p>-Veljekset-<p>

Winter was too cold of a season, Wirt decided as he fretted over his younger brother. His breath fogged up in front of him, trying to obscure his vision, and snowflakes kept hitting the back of his neck. The fat flecks brushed against his face and stuck on his coat, melted on his hands and froze his feet. This snow wasn't helping his situation at all and Wirt had plenty of far more important things to fuss over than this bloody weather.

A shudder ran through him but he forced himself to ignore it, yanking firmly against the Edlewood that grew around Greg's limp body. It creaked and snapped beneath his fingers, shavings falling from around Beatrice's beak as she likewise struggled against the oily branches. The pallor of his little brother's face, the bruises beneath his eyes, the small plumes of white that billowed past his lips helped fuel their efforts.

Greg wasn't a bad kid- never had been, he was just young and as a selfish teenager Wirt often forgot about that simple-minded innocence.

Yet, he was the _big brother! _He was supposed to protect Greg against heaven and hell. He was supposed to give him advice about girls. He was supposed to teach him how to ride a bike and play card games when the electricity went out. He was supposed to make him soup when he was sick. How could his half-brother depend on him to keep the monsters at bay if Wirt couldn't even get him home safely?!

_Only the worst of people, _he thought, furiously tearing a winding branch away from Greg's arm, _are thoughtless enough to prioritize _their_ issues over family_. Beatrice gave a frustrated grunt as her talons slipped over a branch above Gregory's head. She tumbled back, flapping her wings furiously to keep herself from plowing into the snow and spat out maroon wood chips.

"Guck, this stuff is so slippery!" Wirt wasn't sure by her tone if she was speaking to herself or to him so he chose not to reply. He was too busy fighting off tears to formulate a response anyway. His fingers burned horribly, splinters were caught under his nails, and his trembling had worsened.

But Wirt's despair gave him unexpected strength and he fought harder than he ever could have to free his half-brother.

Minutes later he was startled by the sound of snow crunching under foot in the distance. Suddenly cautious he stopped and turned, warily eyeing the shadowy trees.

_Crackack._

"We're almost there, keep going!" Beatrice urged breathlessly. Wirt forced himself to return to the task at hand, yanking Edlewood away with furious vigor.

Finally Greg fell forward from his prison, landing in Wirt's quivering arms like a sack of potatoes. His half-brother was still breathing and but he was so cold that the teen could feel the chill on his numbed-fingers like a sharp, stabbing ache. Before he could feel any faint sense of relief a soft, warbling groan followed by a thud reached his ears.

Wirt whirled around so violently he came dangerously close to giving himself whiplash. The sight that met him when he settled was so horrific it threw his heart to the bottom of his stomach.

At the edge of the small clearing the Woodsman lay in the snow. His coat was riddled with tears and dark flecks Wirt couldn't fully make out. The old man's face was pale and his eyes were closed but other than that he seemed relatively unharmed. Tucked away in the cusp of shadow just before the clearing stood the Beast, the terrible glow of his eyes a cruel beacon in the dark. Like staring at a blank page with a black dot in the center, Wirt felt himself drawn to those two unblinking specs.

**Give me my lantern, child, **the monster demanded in his silky, dulcet tones.

"_Your_ lantern?" Wirt asked, confusion swirling through him as softly as the falling snow and he raised the lantern up a little for closer inspection. With his other hand he pulled Greg onto his hip and held him there, ready to run off into the night despite the awkward weight.

Beatrice's rebuttal was instant, "No way, we need this thing," she refused, shaking her head. Grimacing the teen withdrew his hand and tried to swallow a prickly pit of fear. He'd never been good at refusing people- especially murderous, inhuman, forest-beasts.

"Yeah, I'm keeping this," he agreed, desperately trying to keep his voice from wavering, "I have to get Greg home!" He lifted it again, as though hoping the light would be enough to keep the demon at bay.

**Your brother is too weak to go home, **in a mollifying gesture the Beast held out his hands and lowered his head, **He will soon become part of my forest. **

"I won't let that happen!" Wirt said with pubescent squeak, honest terror churning in his stomach. What was he going to do? What _could he do? _His only worthwhile talents lay in poetry and music! And even then that was on a good day. As he was now- thoughts a little fuzzy, fingers so numb he could barely grip Greg tight enough to keep him from falling off his hip, and trembling fit for a leaf shuddering against the wind- he couldn't fight off a fish out of water.

The Beast tensed, like a coiling snake, and Wirt could feel his face get a little paler. **Well then, **he said, velvet voice lowering menacingly, **perhaps we'd better make a deal. **

At the creature's feet, the Woodsman stirred, blinking snowflakes out of his eyes. But the Beast's presence was intense and demanded attention so his feeble movements went unnoticed.

"A deal?" Wirt questioned, his fear abating just a little as he cocked his head.

**I can put his spirit in the lantern, **the dark abyss explained, reaching forward. His eyes were almost eager…

Wirt stumbled back, driven by a strange need to keep himself and his brother as far away from the creature as he could. He shifted his left leg behind him and turned 180 degrees so his body stood between the Beast and Greg. Beatrice flew beside him, the sound of her flapping wings a comfort in the dismal situation.

"No," the Woodsman mouthed in horror.

**As long as the flame stays lit, **the creature explained, **he will live on inside. Take on the task of Lantern Bearer, or watch your brother die. **

Wirt refused to take his eyes off the Beast, chewing on his options. He could try and make a break for it but with Greg's weight and his own exhaustion he wasn't going to get very far. And even if they did escape the Beast's frightening speed, Greg needed immediate medical attention. Where was he supposed to get that in the Unknown? Maybe if he put his half-brother in the lantern he could keep him alive long enough to find a doctor…

His brow furrowed. If he put Greg's soul in the lantern, could he ever get him back out again?

Wirt's eyes flicked compulsively to the Woodsman, surprised to see the man conscious again.

"Don't do it, Wirt!" Beatrice hissed before his expression could reveal the man.

**Do not interfere! **The Beast howled suddenly, his entire body stiffening and those empty pits of white growing wider as he leaned forwards. A tiny squeak erupted from the blue bird and Wirt's gaze snapped back to the demon's demanding eyes. **Come now, child, your brother is only getting closer to death, **like a switch the demon's voice returned to its suave nature.

The tiniest of groans whistled past Greg's lips and Wirt could feel him shift slightly against him. The light of the lantern on his skin suddenly felt cold- not like a chill, but like an unfathomable, unfeeling void that gorged itself on the happiness of others. Greg, bubbly, energetic, mischievous, little Greg would keep this grotesque monstrosity alive for decades.

With sudden firmness, Wirt returned the lantern to his side and bravely treated the Beast to a glare of his own.

"I refuse," he said defiantly.

**You what? **The teen could physically feel the air around them become aggressive as the Beast fought to calm himself. **You do not understand the magnitude of this decision, boy! **Stepping forward he was unprepared for the Woodsman to take this opportunity to lung forward and grasp his fallen axe. With a heave he swung his weapon into the air and narrowly missed the Beast's arm. Startled he moved back, gliding out of the clearing and vanishing with an angry yowl.

"Run!" the man cried, pushing himself to his feet, "Run, child!" Desperation was written into the lines of his face but Wirt needed no more persuasion. He bolted, heading to the trees on shaky legs. Beatrice fluttered beside him, watching carefully and fighting off flowering fear- the battle clear on her face.

Wirt knew why all too well as he stumbled and almost dropped his brother. The snow pulled at his heels, his cape dragging back in the wind, and each uncertain step was swayed further by the added weight. He either needed to drop the lantern and lift his brother with both hands or get caught. But if he threw their only source of light away there'd be nothing to keep the Beast at bay and they'd be trapped for sure.

"Wirt!" Beatrice warned but not soon enough as the Woodsman came up beside him and plucked Greg from his arms as easily as the boy would have picked a flower.

"Greg!" Wirt's voice shook with dismay but before he could turn to the old man and fight for his younger brother's return he spoke up.

"Keep the lantern held high, child!" he shouted, "I'll carry your brother, follow me to the mill and we'll be safe until sunrise!" Just as he was about to protest the Beast's shadow flickered just out of reach.

"There isn't time," Beatrice could see the hesitation in his eyes, "let's go!" Faced with no other choice Wirt pushed forwards. It was hard to keep pace with the Woodsman's long strides but he wasn't going to be deterred and he absolutely refused to let any harm come to Greg.

**Don't think you can escape me, Woodsman, **the Beast purred, flitting through the trees directly behind Wirt, **You have never been able to get away from me. **The man grit his teeth to bite back a retort but the brief distraction was all the Beast needed and the Woodsman tripped forwards on a root.

In that moment, as the axe flew out of the Woodsman's hand and landed in the snow by his feet, Wirt saw the creature loom over the fallen figures. He saw his brother's teapot sticking out from under the fallen man and something in him reared its head. Without thinking he scooped the axe up, lunged forward, and swung as hard as he could. It cracked against something hard and an earsplitting shriek shook the air.

The next thing Wirt was aware of as Beatrice's cry rung beneath him was that he was flying through the snow. His breath caught in his throat like barbs hooking into the soft flesh of his esophagus, wind whistling around him, and his heart fluttering in his chest like a caged bird that knew it was about to be crushed.

As unprepared as he was for his flight he was even less prepared for the body slam he made with a thick tree trunk. Pain exploded violently across his back and he wondered for a moment if this is what it felt like to be crushed. He would have howled with agony if his breath hadn't been torn out of his lungs, spittle dancing among snowflakes. Darkness suddenly befell his vision and, as terror once again gripped him, Wirt felt himself begin to descend. His thin body clapped against hard tree branches, the bark ripping into his flesh like claws and thin twigs flogged him on the way down. He was hit abruptly by a cold wall that stung his face and brought a sudden end to his beating.

Stunned, he lay in the snow, back jerking up and down as he gasped. Someone called his name but he couldn't get enough oxygen to formulate a reply. It took some time before the ringing in his ears abated. There was something wrapped around his chest, lifting him out of the snow, and he listened for the sound of the Woodsman's voice urging him to rise. A low groan bubbled out of his throat and he strained to make sense of the world around him.

"Beast!" the Woodsman roared in the distance, "release that child!" It took Wirt a few seconds too long to realize that the source of the man's voice was not coming from behind him. Although the movement stung terribly, he fought to open his eyes. He managed to peel his lids back just enough to barely make out the fuzzy figures huddled between the trees several meters away.

**I don't think so, **the Beast growled and he was waytooclose! A light gasp squirmed its way past Wirt's lips when he felt his captor's fingers glide across his back.

"Wirt!" Beatrice called, "Come on, you have to wake up! _Move!_"

But he hurt too much, he was too cold, he was too tired, and there were streams of warmth cascading over his neck-his arms-his back- and swelling inside him.

For a moment, as the Beast reached for his lantern, all Wirt could do was choke on copper.

"G-Get.._out of here!_" he rasped, flecks spraying around the words.

Surprise and horror struck the blue bird's face, "Wha-"

If they didn't turn and run now there'd be no chance so Wirt gazed into the Woodsman's eyes with so much desperation he could feel tears streaming down his cheeks.

"_Please,"_ he gasped, "go!"

When a terrible sadness grew into the Woodsman's eyes the teenager knew he'd won the battle of reason. With little more apparent thought the man struck out his arm and captured Beatrice in his hand, ignoring her squeak of surprise. He hiked Greg up further, so his chin was resting on his shoulder. Then he turned on his heel and fled.

Greg's head bounced with each footfall, his teakettle hat slipping and sliding on his head. For a moment, before his brother could vanish into the unknown, Wirt fantasized that he could see his eyes starting to open. A small encouraging smile lit up the elder brother's face and he watched as the figures vanished from sight.

By now the Beast had his fingers wrapped around Wirt's, in the process of prying the lantern free. He was chuckling darkly, feeling victorious as he watched his enemies flee into the wood. Glad to be underestimated for a change Wirt took a deep, agonizing breath.

Then he ripped his arm away. The Beast's fingers tore through his flesh when he tried to stop him but he wasn't fast enough and Wirt's hand was already slick with blood. A battle cry rent the air, it's source unclear to the teen, as he swung the lantern up and smashed it as hard as he could against the creature's face.

A terrible shriek exploded through the night, fire burst out of the broken lantern and in the light Wirt saw the hideousness of the Beast's form. He looked like he was carved of Edlewood, the faces of screaming children covered his frame from head to toe.

**What have you done?! **the monster yowled, stumbling back and releasing his captive, **My lantern! My **_**soul!**_

Wirt crawled away from the creature, more to avoid the fiery, flailing limbs than anything else. The flames lapped hungrily at the Beast's body, easily eating through his wooden frame burning away oils vigorously. Its heat would have been scalding enough without the numbness that Wirt's flesh experienced. As it was now he felt like he was in an inferno and he sagged back into the snow with a yelp, covering his head as the monster's shrieks grew ever louder.

**BOY! **With that last echoing word the Beast exploded, flaming pieces of Edlewood splattering across the snow in all directions. They sprayed across the teen's body and would have lit him up as well if he hadn't remained relatively moist after his dip into the frozen lake.

Then silence.

So abrupt and unusual after the latest events that Wirt wasn't sure what was going on for several moments.

And so he was left lying there in the snow, half-awake, listening to the crackle of flames around him. Thinking clearly was damn near impossible at this point and though he was scared Wirt knew that he'd reached the end of his life.

No more waking up to go to school in the morning.

No more trying and failing to wake Greg up for school in the morning.

No more wistfully watching Sara go about her day in history class, ever so unaware of her own beauty.

No more trying to teach a wiggly half-brother how to read in the afternoons after school.

No more cooking dinner for his family or catching the scent of his mother's infamous brownies in the oven.

No more falling asleep at night alone and waking up with one of Greg's stuffed toys tucked under his arm or candy set on the nightstand.

No more….

It was difficult to tell if his vision was going or if the fires were dying out around him, Wirt would have bet that it was the former. He was thankful, at least, that he was too numb and tired to feel any pain anymore.

As exhausted as he was he forced himself to keep his eyes open, watching the snow fall around him. At any other point it would have been morbidly beautiful. The falling particles of ice caught and reflected the light of the fires, the trees loomed up high above him like black skeletons, and the clouds had several quiet, rolling shades of brown. Small plumes of white billowed around his mouth but he didn't really notice when they began to disappear and his chest started to ache.

_Buh-thump.._

All alone, one-part frozen-half-to-death the other half beaten to death, Wirt began to truly experience silence. The light wheeze of breath through his lungs had become a whisper, the pump of blood through his veins getting substantially quieter, the sound of his throat flexing as he swallowed blood or saliva- he didn't know anymore- they were all getting quieter. He tried not to let himself be afraid of death, that the worst part was almost over, but in heart, mind, and body Wirt could not help but be a teenager.

_Buh-thump…_

He was scared, and he was alone and he was relieved that Greg was going home. He tried to tell himself that he was okay with staying behind.

…_Buh-thump…._

He was scared and he was lonely…

…_Buh-thump…_

So he reached for the only comfort he had.

…_Buh-thump…_

"My shadow fled," he rasped quietly, unaware that his eyes were open and yet unseeing, "I am without body, dissolved in moonlight." As darkness came upon him, Wirt felt his fear melt away and his body begin to relax without his consent, "My step remains suspended in mid-air," he struggled to continue, "my hand touches emptiness…"

…_Buh…-thump…_

Wirt's throat closed up, his breath no more and his heart shuddering through its last few beats. His mind grew distant, but drawn by a voice- _Beatrice? _– calling his name.

_…Buh…-thump…_

_Take care of yourself, Greg… Don't you ever let the world make you hard- be soft and love as you have always-_

…_**Buh…**_

…

…

_-done…._

…_**-thump…**_

"_WIRT!"_

-End-

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><p><em>No, I actually don't regret doing this. <em>


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